Social Media, Cancel Culture, and Diversity for Girls and The 100 - KOME

Original Article

                                                                  KOME − An International Journal of Pure
Tug of War:                                                                      Communication Inquiry
                                                                              Volume X Issue Y, p. 0-0.
Social Media, Cancel Culture, and                                                 © The Author(s) 2021
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Diversity for Girls and The 100                                                kome@komejournal.com
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                                                                     Communication Studies Association
                                                                        DOI: 10.17646/KOME.75672.59

Jonina Anderson-Lopez1, R.J. Lambert2 and Allison Budaj3
1
  University of South Florida, USA
2
  Medical University of South Carolina, USA
3
  Southern New Hampshire University and Ameritech College of Healthcare, USA

Abstract: Hate the most recent season of a television show? Create a viral petition! Better yet,
find an old tweet of a cast member to publicly shame them. These are examples of audience
participation and expectations when it comes to television. Audiences react to several types of
fiction, but this article mostly focuses on the impacts of television shows and audience
reception. Analyzing audience and critical reception of certain TV shows may reveal
motivations for subsequent creative decisions by the creators. On shows like Roseanne,
audience reception has influenced decisions concerning creative control. Audience demands
help sway the market and have opened up diversity initiatives in speculative media. The
theoretical base for this article is formed from reception theory and primary research of Twitter
posts. To further explore the phenomenon of audience sway over artistic ownership, two
television shows, Girls and The 100, will be examined in context with audience and critical
reception, cancel culture, and diversity initiatives across media.

Keywords: audience, reception, media, twitter, diversity, television, HBO girls, the 100

Introduction

After the last half of Season 8 streamed on HBO, 1.7 million Game of Thrones fans signed a
petition demanding new writers and an alternate ending (Mccluskey, 2019, para.2). HBO
responded, sharing how they had no intention of making changes. Instead of closing the chapter
on Game of Thrones, the fans and critics continued to backlash. Saturday Night Live mocked
the now infamous series finale. Former Game of Thrones co-star Jason Mamoa publicized his
disappointment with the last episode via an Instagram video that was viewed over 136,000
times. Showrunners D.B. Weiss and David Benioff were “extremely quiet, even going so far
as to cancel their scheduled appearance at Comic Con” (Placido, 2019, para. 1). The pair had
been signed to direct and write the next series of Star Wars projects. However, after the
backlash, they signed with Netflix and bowed out of the Star Wars deal. Laura Bradley of
Vanity Fair describes how Weiss and Benioff may have decided against joining the Star Wars-
verse. After watching “Star Wars fans bully actors and directors […] they began to have doubts
Address for Correspondence: Jonina Anderson-Lopez email: andersonlopez[at]myunion.edu
Article received on the 29th July, 2020. Article accepted on the 6th December, 2020.
Conflict of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest.

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about whether they should dip their toes in as well” because “who wants to go through that
again?” (Bradley, 2019, para. 2). Game of Thrones is but one example of television audience
participation and how the gears of reception and fandom push back against corporations,
networks, and production companies. Though not necessarily a new constraint, audiences
increasingly make demands of creators and studios to influence content and shape productions.
The novelty, and sometimes effectiveness, of such demands, is in part the result of social media
platforms that allow for opinions to quickly spread and to then be picked up by news outlets
and critics. This symbiotic relationship between creators, audiences, and critics can help boost
or sink shows and films. While to some degree creators and commercial distributors have
always considered audience needs and wants, the persistence of contemporary audience
expectations has come to influence entertainment production. In particular, Wolfgang Iser’s
(2006) Reception Theory calls for text, context and text, and the reader (p. 58). In the case of
this article, the “reader” becomes the “audience,” and “context and text” become “interpretation
of critical reception.” Audiences react to several types of fictional entertainment, but this article
investigates online audience reception of recent television shows. In conjunction with various
reception theories, primary research was assessed from individual social media posts via
Twitter. Although other sites like Reddit and Tumblr encourage users to discuss media, Twitter
is easily accessible (for users and researchers) and is more popular. As the title of the article
suggests, the very act of watching may engender a feeling of possession for the audience, a
feeling nurtured by online spaces. While at times considered toxic and labeled as cancel culture,
this amplification of sentiment can also evolve into positive calls for change, such as calls for
diversity. To further explore the phenomenon of audience sway over artistic ownership, this
article examines two television series, Girls and The 100, using such frameworks as audience
reception, cancel culture, and diversity initiatives across media.
     First, an outline of rationale in choosing Girls and The 100 as examples for this article will
establish greater context. In decades past, audiences have rallied to influence networks to stave
off show cancellations, like with letters, phone calls, and word-of-mouth campaigns with Star
Trek and Twin Peaks (Guerrero-Pico, 2017, p. 2072). Additionally, there are several recent
shows that could have been evaluated for audience reception. Friends, Sleepy Hollow,
Roseanne, and the aforementioned Game of Thrones weathered controversies that reflect the
influence of audience opinion. However, the focus of this article is to explore what, if any,
tangible production changes (i.e., new or revised characters) result in response to audience
reception in which “television fans now make strategic use of social media” (Guerrero-Pico
2017, p. 2072). Thus, Girls and The 100 are two shows that altered production in reaction to
online controversy, rather than simply cancelling, renewing, or re-naming a show through other
means. In assessing these phenomena, it helps that Girls has concluded and The 100 is ongoing.
Whereas one show ended three years ago (Girls), the other (The 100) is still beholden to fans
and critics. Furthermore, Twitter and other social media became more influential from 2012
onward, lending audience opinion and increased presence and influence. The focus on Girls
and The 100 also reviews the impact of audience reception in two distinct corners of television:
Girls originates from a premium cable channel, HBO, whereas The 100 represents a basic cable
network, The CW. Even as their fan demographics may be similar in gender and age, their
viewership is different enough to support the theory that audiences of all types can express
expectations that influence production. However, as this article will outline, the impetus and
application of fan criticism varies and produces divergent results.
     A brief overview of Girls (2012-2017) and The 100 (2014 --) will provide background on
the impact of their audience reception, along with critical reception of the time. This is to ensure
less of a nostalgic view as sometimes adopted by present-day critics that may not consider
critical reception and categorization of television shows at the time of their release. Such a
dualistic approach, critical plus audience reception, may help “readers to grasp a reality that

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was never their own” (Iser, 2006, p. 63). Starting chronologically, Girls premiered on HBO on
April 15, 2012 amid rave reviews for “its voice and colorful storylines,” even being compared
to the network’s other NYC dram-edy, Sex and the City (“Lena Dunham,” 2012, para. 1-2).
The show follows a group of four post-college white twenty-somethings as they deal with life
in New Yok City, specifically focusing on Hannah (played by Dunham) and her career as a
writer. Dunham, the show’s co-creator, head writer, and lead actress, had written award-
winning independent films, and was labeled a “wunderkind” by several news outlets, such as
The New York Times and Los Angeles Times. Still, within hours of the premiere, viewers and
critics criticized the show’s penchant for an all-white cast lamenting upper-class privileged
issues (“Lena Dunham,” para. 3). That same year on NPR’s Fresh Air, Dunham professed
“sensitivity” to the diversity issues, but insisted she wrote the characters to “avoid rendering an
experience I can’t speak to accurately” (“Lena Dunham,” 2012, para. 6). Yet, seemingly in
acknowledgement of the diversity criticism, Girls began filming new episodes in May of 2012,
with star Dunham spotted by outlets like TMZ with supposed cast addition, Donald Glover. In
another interview, Dunham expressed excitement for adding “new characters into the world of
the show. Some of them are great actors of color” (as cited in Storey, 2012, para. 5). Eventually,
Glover’s role is revealed as a guest star. His character is a soft-spoken law-student and
Republican who only remains for two episodes. Though never as predominant as it had been in
2012-13, critique about diversity continued for the duration of the show.
     In 2014, The CW released The 100, a sci-fi show based on the eponymous Kass Morgan
book series. The plot centers around Clarke Griffin, an incarcerated teen aboard a space station
after a worldwide nuclear strike 100 years in the future. Clarke and 99 incarcerated (therefore
disposable) teens are sent to Earth to see if it can be safely re-colonized. The first season was
described as a futuristic Lord of the Flies by outlets like The San Antonio Times and IGN due
to its proclivity for killing off main characters. Deviating from Morgan’s novels, the television
writers even killed off show favorites, like the character Wells Jaha. This trend continued into
Season 3, when Commander Lexa was killed by a stray bullet. In a show where so many
characters die, Lexa'a death could have been explained as par for the course. However, fans felt
differently, pointing out on social media platforms how she was killed right after a sexual
encounter with another female character, the protagonist Clarke Griffin. Thus, to viewers,
Lexa's death paralleled trends in which LGBTQ characters were more dispensable than straight
characters (Framke, 2016, para. 14). In online articles for TVInsider and face-to-face forums
like the Writer’s Guild Panel in 2016, showrunners of The 100 openly discussed their snafu,
and how it might be remedied. A staff writer for the Lexa-death episode, Javier Grillo-
Marxuach, conceded, “I think it was a failure to recognize the cultural impact that this would
have outside the context of the show” (as cited in Wagmeister, 2016, para. 4). Ultimately,
showrunners did not revert Clarke (Lexa’s lover) to a heteronormative relationship upon Lexa’s
death, as many viewers assumed would be the case. Queer and gender critiques of The 100
persist to this day. Part of why Girls and The 100 were chosen for analysis over series with
similar issues is because of the presence of social media in response to controversies (or as an
impetus for what fans perceived as controversial). The fan voices were amplified due to the
prevalence and easy use of social media, gaining attention for racial and queer issues of
diversity.

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Audience and Critical Reception

This article will primarily rely on audience reception as the lens for interpretation. A rift
between traditional criticism and popular receptions of media “raises a key issue regarding the
use of film criticism in reception studies: to what extent can the critics’ views be taken as
representative?” (Chapman et al., 2007, p. 195). In an age of new “media citizenship” and “the
ethics of performativity” (Elsaesser, 2004, p. 76), this question may be extended to revise (and
re-envision) the very function of the critic, getting to the heart of contemporary reception
studies. To what extent does the viewing public come to perform the role of film critic through
new media participation, and what is the impact of such criticisms on televised content?
Analyzing audience reception of Girls and The 100 may illustrate how subsequent creative
choices were informed, with little or lasting impact. As mentioned above, audiences for both
shows expressed their displeasure for the perceived status quo of the narratives. Emily Keightly
(2008) suggests that in research, memory is a useful method for cultural studies, as different
voices come together to analyze one story (p. 181). Given that the diversity issues for the shows
took place eight years ago for Girls, and four years ago for The 100, the audience critiques
amount to a socially constructed memory of what occurred. Studying this in tandem with
critical responses may reveal complexities in the showrunner’s creative decisions.
     Though memes and posts were widely shared on Facebook and other social media, Twitter
produced the brunt of audience conversation. From its inception in 2006, Twitter was designed
for mobile users and thus held greater appeal to younger users (the target audience for Girls
and The 100) than the desktop site for Facebook (Jackson, 2012, para. 3). Twitter is a platform
that empowers users to share, and then reshare, their opinions, particularly with showrunners.
Mar Guerrero-Pico (2017) explores how following the internet’s inception in 1989, “There has
been an empowerment of consumers, who, thanks to the expansion of social media in recent
years, now have more tools at their disposal to become more visible and ensure their comments,
opinions, and requests reach the interested parties without intermediaries” (p. 2071). Other
series, like Scandal, also utilized Twitter in 2012 to their marketable advantage: “Scandal is
also an important mark in the historical development of #TGIT (or Thank God It’s Thursday)
programming because it demonstrated the possible success of social television from an
industrial perspective. Indeed, Scandal has come to be referred to as the industry standard for
‘must-tweet television’” (McNamara, 2013). With Twitter, fans learned how to create an entire
force, ready to mobilize and then capture the attention of critical news outlets. From Nagy and
Midha (2015) in “The Value of Earned Audiences: How Social Interactions Amplify TV
Impact”: “As Tweet exposure drives actions across platforms including searching, engagement,
and purchase, marketers should learn to integrate Tweet messages, #hashtags, and calls to
action with campaigns on other media” (p. 453). The following section balances modern and
past critical perspectives, while also allowing room for individual interpretation. As Halbwachs
(1980) believes, memories are the products of something larger, or an “intersection of collective
influences” (p. 44). Due to ready availability of online spaces, audience are now able to share
their influence in an easier and quicker fashion, in opposition to the letter writing and phone
calls of the past. Thus, truth and story are shaped by what is communicated, and in the context
of others.
     Analyzing audience reception through a relatively newer type of media, like Twitter, may
archive, analyze, and legitimize the vast array of popular responses to television across new
media. Elsaesser (2004) notes how “theories of cinematic spectatorship, initially elaborated
around class and (immigrant) ethnicity, have been extended to gender, race and other forms of
cultural identity” (p. 76). Audience criticism for Girls involved complaints about a lack of
diversity among the cast and charges of nepotism. The online discussions included fans and

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critics. Even before the premiere, critics like Judy Berman had early access, and posted articles
decrying the series for covering “first-world problems” from a “white lens.” As Berman (2012)
suggests in an April 13, article (before the premiere), several popular shows of the time were
guilty of promoting white “problems” without diverse voices entering in—Two Broke Girls,
How I Met Your Mother—and yet, the need to examine Girls, and then examine it again, was
oddly acute (para. 5). On the date of the premiere, April 15, 2012, viewer angst and independent
think-pieces on the lack of diversity, like the Intellichick post “These Aren’t My ‘Girls’,” were
widely shared on Twitter. Before such posts, there seemed to be an unspoken agreement from
formal critics that the show “spoke” to young women’s issues in big-city life. Not every Twitter
user was unhappy with Girls, as @LCoan_’s tweet (Figure 1) gives Dunham “props” for
avoiding what she deems “forced and fake diversity.”

             Figure 1. "Girls criticism and praise on Twitter." Screengrab from Twitter. 2020.

From April 12-17, there were only two tweets discussing race or diversity, increasing to nine
tweets from April 18-22. On April 18, journalist Dave Weigel acknowledges the critique of
Girls as a new “national pastime” (Figure 2).

                Figure 2. "Journalist Weigel on Girls controversy." Screengrab from Twitter. 2020.

    Some tweets even mentioned “nepotism,” since the four main co-stars all hail from famous
and/or wealthy families. Then, on April 23, there were seven tweets about race, almost the same
amount there had been on a five-day run. April 23, a week after the first episode, was also the
day CNN aired a panel critiquing Girls and race. The CNN panel was critical of a show that
takes place in the diverse city of New York full of so many white characters and themes
(Crugnale, 2012, para. 2). On air, host Soledad O-Brien showed Girls staff writer Lesley Arfin’s
post (Figure 3) in response to diversity criticism. Though not participating in the CNN panel,
Arfin later deleted the post and apologized for her comment. Even as she tried to argue that
narratives often focus on particular characters and their trials and tribulations, her tweet seemed
dismissive and racially-charged.

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                     Figure 3. "Girls staff writer Arfin on Precious film." Screengrab from
                     Twitter. 2020.

     Diversity and nepotism were not the only controversies to haunt the show in audience and
critical circles, though they were two of the most prominent and persistent. Other controversies
include depictions of nudity and sex acts. The web magazine Vulture chronicles all the
controversies on their website, from 2012-2017 (Moylan, 2017). Interest in the show from
critics and audiences was high. Notably, “the New York Times ran seven articles per week
during the show’s first three months” (Watson, 2015, p. 145). Dunham, as the main character
Hannah, even reflects satirically on her role as “the voice of my generation” versus “a voice of
a generation” (S1x1, “Pilot”). This could be because, months before the show aired, critics were
already lauding Girls as “important” and a modern instantiation of feminism, which was
assumed to be global feminism. Instead of including intersections on gender, race, and class in
a way that was supposed to be “highly current, and thoroughly modern” and “unlike what was
on TV” (Stewart, 2012, para. 7), the show released promotional posters featuring a cast of four
white young women. The white feminist narrative seemed reminiscent of what viewers had
seen from Sex and the City fourteen years earlier, and so the progressive expectations for the
show did not meet with the show’s creative reality.
     In The New Film History: Sources, Methods, Approaches, Justin Smith (2007) describes
the method of “web ethnography,” identifying new media participation as constructing “the
politics and rituals of cult film fandom” (p. 229). Approaches such as Smith’s help illustrate
the constraints of traditional critical reception studies, which prioritize critical discourse at the
exclusion or marginalization of popular reception, and conversely suggests the benefits of more
democratic approaches to media reception. Berman (2012) scratches at another plausible reason
why Girls received so much critical attention: “It’s almost as if we’re holding Lena Dunham
accountable in a way that these earlier Voices of a Generation didn’t have to be because she’s
already somewhat outside the mainstream—a young woman whose body isn’t magazine-
perfect” (para. 6). The very title of the show, Girls, implies it appeals on a universal-feminist
scale, though the main characters and their social and class concerns seem to refute the “every-
girl” implication. Still, Ta-Nehisi Coates (2012) believes Dunham and Arfin should avoid
writing in minorities simply because of audience and critical push-back. Instead, he calls for
greater scrutiny for the platforms producing content like Girls: “There has been a lot of talk,
this week about Lena Dunham's responsibility, but significantly less about the people who sign
her checks” (Coates, 2012, para. 12). In 2012, out of a few dozen offerings of original fictional
content, HBO only had one show with a minority listed as the first lead character, with only
another two featuring minorities as co-stars. However, their 2020 lineup and beyond has been
building upon past diverse shows, to be explored later in this article.
     Through a comparative case study approach, this article illustrates how such theories of
popular reception are particularly insightful when analyzing the reception of contemporary
television series like Girls and The 100. Ultimately, as shown below, sensitivity to actual
audience reception may be understood as central to the success and creative trajectory of
contemporary television series. Alternatively, The CW’s The 100 enjoyed almost no criticism
for its casting, which was more diverse than Girls. It was not until Season 3 that creator Jason

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Rothenberg heard from upset viewers across various social media. By that time, The 100 was
notorious for killing off central characters, and did so with Commander Lexa in the episode
“Thirteen” (S3x7). After this episode aired on March 3, 2016, viewers vented their
disappointment on Twitter, as shown in Figure 4.

                Figure 4. "The 100 fans’ Twitter discontent." Screengrab from Twitter. 2020.

      A total of seven negative tweets emerged on March 3 about Lexa’s death, with another
seven on March 4. For perspective, March 2 had only one promotional tweet, and March 1 had
eight positive tweets and two negative tweets concerning the quality of the show. The
discontent evolved into fan-led online petitions and a viral trend of the Bury Your Gays trope,
that acknowledges how media will often portray an LGBTQ character, only to kill them off,
usually after engaging in a sexual act. Originally a literary trope to "rid" storylines of characters
unapproved by society, Haley Hulan (2017) notes how Bury Your Gays bled into other media
forms (p. 17). However, as same-sex marriage is now legal and "many laws against
homosexuality have been abolished, Bury Your Gays is no longer necessary" (Hulan, 2017, p.
17). Despite wider tolerance for difference in society, narratives still employ the trope. Often,
if a character engages with someone of the same sex, it’s merely a blip in the narrative, as they
quickly return to heteronormative relationships. The violent deaths of The 100’s female
LGBTQ characters brought #BuryYourGays to the forefront of online fan concerns, as noted
by formal critics.
      For instance, Dhaenens et al. (2008) have argued “that queer-sensitive audiences cannot
be ignored in research on queer representations and reception in media studies” (p. 336). This
article will use as a starting point their description of a queer reading of film reception, “a
multidisciplinary approach that includes queer theory frameworks and insights from audience”
(Dhaenens et al., 2008, p. 336)—one which resists the strict categories of gender, sexuality,
genre, and even the distinct categorization of “critic” and “popular audience.” It is here that
intersections of youth, queer-sensitive audience identification, and critical performativity allow

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us to better understand not only the reception of such films across a range of popular and critical
responses, but indeed the very processes of film reception and criticism in a new media age.
Part of the audience dissatisfaction for The 100 stemmed from expectations versus execution.
     At times, writers employ what fans call “queerbaiting,” or writing in queer characters to
attract queer audiences, only to then “ditch the characters so they can focus on developing
heterosexual plots” (Guerrero-Pico et al., 2017, p. 3). With the development of Clark and
Lexa’s relationship, and subsequent death of Lexa, the charge of queerbaiting on the part of
The 100 writers seemed valid to fans. Dorothy Snaker (2012) of The Hollywood Reporter notes
how the Clarke and Lexa dynamic trended on social media during Seasons 2 and 3, “encouraged
and engaged by series creator Jason Rothenberg and his staff” (para. 5). Following the character
build-up, the swift end did not meet fans’ hopes for strong, feminist storylines, particularly for
the LGBTQ community. Snarker (2012) states how “in retrospect, many now feel the show
misled them into hoping” for those storylines (para. 5). The CW focused on Clark and Lexa’s
relationship in the twenty-one second promo video by having a character chide Lexa: “Your
feelings for Clarke put both of you in danger” (TV Promos, 2016, 0:10). In the context of Lexa’s
death, that particular line seems to further underscore the Bury Your Gays trope. In an online
post, Rothenberg admits that the “aggressive promotion” of the episode and of Clarke and
Lexa’s relationship (also known as “Clexa”), “only fueled a feeling of betrayal” (as cited in
Roth, 2012, para. 4). Initially, Rothenberg attributed Lexa’s death to creative freedom, while
apologizing for not understanding how hurtful the decision might seem to LGBTQ audiences.
When asked about re-writing Lexa’s ending during a March 21 TVInsider interview,
Rothenberg said he would have kept everything the same (as cited in Holbrook, 2012, para. 7).
Though he expressed regret for unwittingly playing into the Bury Your Gays trope, Rothenberg
was perceived as unconcerned with the audience impact.
     The shows had differences and similarities concerning audience and critical reception. The
height of audience and critical reception occurred at different times; for Girls it was before and
after the premiere, and for The 100 it peaked during Season 3. Though both shows were
analyzed for issues of diversity, the points of diversity were not the same. For instance, Girls
was scrutinized for an all-white and upper-class cast, whereas The 100 came under fire for
upholding an anti-lesbian trope, Bury You Gays. It seemed that the formal media criticism for
Girls increased the audience reception on Twitter, while the opposite was true for The 100. The
perceptions of either show cannot be distilled through formal critical and audience reception
alone, because “the first meaning of history—what has happened—posits a base reality whose
totality can never be fully reconstituted” (Friedman, 1997, p. 233). Thus, the opinions of the
audience and critics will be assessed through subsequent sections of this article, and will be
treated as separate pieces of the puzzle. Audiences and critics can rally behind different points
concerning fictional narratives. Generally, the increase in online discussion (whether audience-
led or in the form of media criticism) elevated both shows and fostered more analysis of
diversity issues. Once these initiatives gain momentum, for good or ill, they sometimes spiral
into cancel culture.

Cancel Culture

Recently, audience reception has influenced decisions concerning creative control, which may
be linked to cancel culture. Jeannie Parker Beard (2020) codifies cancel culture as a hinderance
to civic discourse, in the way that it “cultivates the mob mentality” and demands a “100%
consensus” (para. 4-5). In part, cancel culture can be linked to what is perverse or taboo in a
society. However, cancel culture goes further than recognizing supposed taboo words and
actions because it is also places pressure to withdraw the taboo words or actions. On Twitter,

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users may “encounter an affective flow of outrage, as well as fun and enjoyment, at the expense
of an evil other who must be ‘cancelled,’ and the pleasures of moral posturing” (Bouvier, 2020,
p. 10). In online spaces, cancel culture hashtags can go viral, resulting in online petitions or
movements calling for the entertainment industry to make drastic changes. In the end,
entertainment industries are also businesses and strive to keep fans (aka customers) happy.
While this can be conflated with cancel culture, it may be indicative of a business decision and
customer demand.
     Online platforms could be changing society’s response to taboo behaviors. Twitter,
Instagram, Facebook and more are making it easier to quickly share information, and then to
quickly respond with individual opinion. Gwen Bouvier (2020) writes how Twitter drives users
to share short, snappy comebacks that encapsulate “high levels of affect and emotion” and then
“bind affective communities” (p. 2). This level of emotion is what can also ramp up the number
of “likes” for a tweet (aka commentary), or hashtag (aka trending topic). The desire for
increased exposure can lead to a cycle of provoking emotional response from other users
(Bouvier, 2020, p. 2). Some incidents and opinions are widely disseminated, becoming “viral,”
and it becomes contingent upon users to either disagree or agree. Beard (2020) outlines how
“what seems to be an escalation in the culture war and the demise of civic discourse could, in
part, be a symptom of big tech's dominance over the modes of communication and
dissemination of information” (para. 1). Before the internet, consumers and audiences
complained mostly via newspapers, consumer groups, and letters to companies. The turn-
around time on a substantive response was comprably slower than the swift responses as seen
with the online campaigns against Girls and The 100. While the messages against the shows
were amplified due to online delivery, the messages were perhaps shared because of the
anonymity perpetuated by virtual spaces. Partha Kar (2019) recalls how at in-person healthcare
conferences, one speaker referenced a joke about “choking a female partner but was not
interrupted or challenged” and it was only afterward that “some people did protest on social
media” (para. 2). There is an elusive element to sharing sentiments online. Bouvier talks about
how tweeting takes place while doing other things, is done quickly, and so users may not think
through their words before hitting “submit.” This lack of reflection, “bolstered by a compelling
sense of affective community, [ensures] there is a corresponding distance from the victim, and
no real fear that there will be any consequences” (Bouvier, 2020, p. 3). The easy access of
social media coupled with the distance provided by technology allows for a disconnect and
sense of freedom that may be absent from in-person interactions. Therefore, live audiences may
be less likely to call attention to taboo words or actions without the shelter of social media.
     The motivation for canceling certain media depictions and actions could be construed as
an attempt to challenge offensive behavior. In society, “if something is considered to be
inappropriate or offensive, there must be some set of common cultural standards that tells us
what is appropriate or what is not” (Jay, 2017, p. xiii). In the case of Girls, Twitter users deemed
the lack of diversity as inappropriate in a discriminatory context. For The 100, the death of
Lexa was a resurgence and confirmation of the Bury Your Gays trope surrounding queer
characters. Like Timothy B. Jay (2017) examines in We Did What? Offensive and
Inappropriate Behavior in American History, “it is important to recognize that what is
appropriate or not depends heavily on context, the ‘who, what, where, and when’ as something
questionable happens” (p. xvi). In both cases, outraged users assessed the behaviors, deemed
them taboo, and demanded change. In fact, what is coined as “cancel culture” can sometimes
become synonymous with “outrage-culture,” or an expectation to never be offended. What
often goes unrecognized is the hidden allure of taboos. As Jay (2017) further notes, “the force
of taboos insulates us from danger (we abstain from the taboo behavior) but at the same time
brings us nearer to them (our curiosity is aroused)” (p. xiv). The push and pull of taboo may be
what feeds into the outrage. As comedian Tom Segura shares in his Netflix special Tom Segura:

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Ball Hog (Hachachi, 2020), “I believe you [the audience] have the right to be offended, and
share these grievances publicly. I also believe you shouldn’t expect anything to be done about
it” (38:01). Segura’s point hinges on the belief that offensive things are going to be said and
done, particularly with comedians, and that audiences can simply avoid being offended by
never watching or listening, as is their choice. However, avoiding a taboo, as Jay describes, is
hard because the very codification of an action or word as taboo builds a hidden attraction. Still,
when an opinion is shared, and deemed by social media users (or other stakeholders) to be
“unpopular” or taboo, this sort of outrage is construed as a cancellation, or even a threat to
freedom of speech. For instance, the “Letter on Justice and Open Debate,” released online by
Harper’s Bazaar in June 2020, chronicles the supposed threat of cancel culture. The letter was
a collaborative effort, penned by public figures like Gloria Steinem, Margaret Atwood, David
Brooks, Noam Chomsky, J.K. Rowling, and others, who feel:

“The free exchange of information and ideas, the lifeblood of a liberal society, is daily becoming more
constricted. While we have come to expect this on the radical right, censoriousness is also spreading
more widely in our culture: an intolerance of opposing views, a vogue for public shaming and ostracism,
and the tendency to dissolve complex policy issues in a blinding moral certainty.” (Ackerman et al.,
2020, para. 1)

     The collective authors are correct to some degree: those “cancelled” in Hollywood, such
as actress Roseanne Barr and director James Gunn, faced swift consequences as a result
publishing their views online. Yet, it wasn’t so much as a public shaming as a business decision
on the part of Disney. Creative endeavors have been, and likely will remain, beholden to
audience interest. Instead of cancel culture as first-amendment suppression, it can perhaps be
viewed as another expression of free speech. Writers of Girls and The 100 were not censored
in sharing their storylines. Once shared, social media users exercised their first amendment
rights and responded, and showrunners made a business decision. Rather than suppression,
cancel culture can be a fervent exchange of ideas, and is the sort of dialogue spoken of by
authors of the Harper’s Bazaar letter. Segura may agree that just because opinions (or creative
decisions as seen on Girls and The 100) are shared, don’t expect anyone to like said opinions,
as an expression of dislike does not necessarily translate to suppression. Social media users
have become adept at hosting online campaigns to champion causes, and though this may seem
like suppression, it is not that different from buying power (boycotting a product/opting out)
that the public has been used to seeing and using for decades. Social media has merely made it
easier to use this power. There will always be delays and cancellations due to outside events
and pressure. However, for shows like Girls and The 100, audience reception resulted in more
than a cancellation. It permeated the creative decisions of showrunners, which changed the
course of each show and their characters.
     After the critique of Season 1, casting decisions for Season 2 of Girls had changed. Laura
Bennett (2013) of The New Republic writes how the “casting notices [were] seeking ‘hipster
types’ of ‘all ethnicities’” (para. 1). Eventually, the Season 2 cast role went to Donald Glover,
a young black actor. As Bennett (2013) mentions, television shows had added to their casts for
similar “complaints of whiteness,” like Friends adding black guest stars Gabrielle Union and
Aisha Tyler with “nearly identical storylines […that…] felt like a cheap kind of appeasement”
(para. 5). For some, Glover wasn’t so much an addition as he was ill-used. In a Huffington Post
piece, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar (2013) echoes other critics on how Girls’ “world is mostly white”,
and emphasizes how:

that white ghetto was breaching by a black character who is introduced as some jungle fever lover, with
just enough time to have sex and mutter a couple of lines about wanting more of a relationship. A black
dildo would have sufficed and cost less. (para. 4)

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On the surface, adding Glover looked as “forced” as Abdul-Jabbar claims.
     Though it’s hard to say if Dunham did in fact cast Glover due to outside pressure, she at
least used the on-screen relationship of Hannah and Sandy (Dunham and Glover) to enact brief
but uncomfortable arguments rooted in racial difference. One of the arguments begin because
Sandy dislikes Hannah’s essay, admitting that “It wasn’t for me,” and her insisting “It’s for
everyone” (S2x02 “I Get Ideas”). Bennett (2013) observes how even this small slice of their
conversation is a nod to the larger controversy surrounding Girls: “whether ‘Girls’ is about all
girls or about four girls’ very particular bubble” (para. 4). The types of viewers interested in
the show do not support the “every-girl” theory. Per a report from Vulture, 56% of the audience
for Girls are male, with 22% of them being “white dudes over 50” (Adalian, 2012, para. 2).
Despite the audience metrics, Glover’s casting and the meta-conversation appeared indicative
of the validity of cancel culture. Dunham may have also yielded to the “whitewashing” claims
because of the scrutiny surrounding Girls, even before the premiere. To sustain positive
perceptions of the supposedly critically-acclaimed show, tackling the lack of diversity (even in
a short-lived manner) was necessary to keep in line with market demands from viewers.
     As stated earlier, The 100 fans created online petitions, calling for greater empathy and
recognition for LGBTQ characters. Part of this was the trending #BuryYourGays and also
#LGBTQDeservesBetter hashtags on Twitter. Aside from the abstract demands, fans created a
fundraiser for the Trevor Project, which is dedicated to LBGTQ issues. From the beginning of
March 2016 until Rothenberg’s TVInsider interview, the petition had raised over 80,000 dollars
for the Trevor Project. On March 24, Rosenberg apologized again, and shared that he would
have “handled Lexa’s death differently” (as cited in Roth, 2012, para. 6). Originally, he most
likely deemed fans were upset over the loss of a favorite character, much in the way fans
denounced previous character deaths on The 100 in a similar fashion. However, the mixture of
fan backlash and fundraiser may have illustrated for Rosenberg the seriousness of the LGBTQ
issue of character representation, which was separate and distinct from past instances of fan
backlash over character deaths. Seeing as how writers could not “reverse” Lexa’s death, they
did write in a continued lesbian story arc. In Season 3, Clarke starts a relationship with Niylah,
sustaining their bond through Season 4. Entering into Season 7, Clarke has yet to enter into a
romance with a man. Through viewers’ online demands, the showrunners of The 100 changed
the creative outcomes to align with what was deemed appropriate and fair.
     Realistically, like with Girls, a combination of business and fan-fueled issues may have
convinced Rosenberg to change course. For instance, the Trevor Project initiative grabbed the
attention of advertisers like Maybelline, who promised to no longer air ads during The 100 via
Twitter posts to fans. According to journalist Brian Steinberg (2016), this did not mean that the
company was pulling ad revenue from The CW, but it was still a substantive threat in terms of
“energizing a fan base” (para. 7). Even before the March 3 airing of episode “Thirteen,” the
sci-fi drama was rumored for cancelation. It’s possible that the #BuryYourGays controversy
simultaneously forced Rosenberg to yield some creative positioning to save face with The CW
executives deciding the future of his show, while also giving Rosenberg reason to demonstrate
how cancelling his show would be counter-productive, given the boost in popularity.
     Both shows apparently capitulated to the online critique period. Girls was accused of
white-washing and sought to counter this perception. The 100 was accused of perpetuating anti-
LGBTQ tropes and was likewise determined to “correct” the perception. However, The 100
made a lasting change that the character trajectory for Clarke has followed for five seasons,
whereas Girls made surface changes with a two-episode guest star, Glover. As identified by
Watson (2015), in Girls, “non-white characters are often transient men and women—
disposable figures quickly dismissed, or at the very least, marginalized by her group” (p. 147).
The shorter and less-sustained response could be because of the nature of diversity issues on

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Girls that originated from a more ambiguous systemic trope (an all-white cast), compared to
the violent and more “in-your-face” offing of an LGBTQ character under circumstances that
reinforced another trope. It is worth noting that even as Girls remained transient in its inclusion
of diverse characters, the critical and audience reception may have influenced HBO to cast
increasingly diverse characters in subsequent show offerings (which will be explored later in
this article). While both tropes are hurtful to different groups, one for racial diversity and one
for gender and sexuality reasons, lasting character changes may have occurred because of the
substantive initiative taken by The 100 fans. Instead of just writing or sharing memes, the fans
decided to act, such as raising funds for The Trevor Project. The fandom also shifted from
antagonistic rhetoric to instead “establish channels of collaboration for a common cause”
(Guerrero-Pico, 2017, p. 2). The fandom tried to refocus the online discussion away from hate
of the show and on to social recognition of a damaging trope. The newly adopted tone and
efforts in campaigning for queer rights gained the notice of The CW network. Rallying as an
online community and creating a tangible output (more than 80 thousand dollars raised)
generated intense pressure for the showrunners. Fans of The 100 built a smaller community-
based following, and so they may have felt they had more buy-in, or even a type of ownership
over the show.

Artistic and Creative Ownership

When audiences identify with a character (as they had trouble with in Girls or found troubling
when a queer character was killed off with The 100) they may feel a type of possession over
that character. As Michel Foucault (1992) argues in “What is an Author?,” a writer’s name and
ownership may be “regulated” by a culture (p. 305). “Partially at the expense of themes and
concepts that an author places in his work,” Foucault explains, “the ‘author function’ could also
reveal the manner in which discourse is articulated on the basis of social relationships” (p. 313).
By extension, “suspicions arise concerning the absolute nature and creative role of the subject”
(p. 314), which could mean that audiences also hold power over stories and increasingly express
interest in influencing these outcomes. Thus begins a battle for control between the artist and
the audience, who create and influence characters, respectively.
     The idea of artistic ownership and authorship is hard to pinpoint in an artform like a play,
film, or television show. These forms are penned by one or many people and require producers,
editors, and other collaborators to bring the story to fruition. Michael J. Meyer (2004) suggests
of the novel Misery:

[Stephen] King poses the ambiguous question faced by all writers: whether their concern for the
symbiotic relationship with their reading public is great enough to overcome their fear of catering to
inferior quality in order to attain a more measurable goal: reader acceptance and financial success. (p.
97)

     Indeed, as displayed in the face-to-face power play between characters Annie Wilkes and
Paul Sheldon, artists must decide to concede or not concede, in varying degrees, with varying
results. However, in making these changes, artists may believe the writing and characterization
will be lessened, and the result will be not as envisioned. In a technical sense, this interplay
between artists and audience may now also include the influence of online fandoms, whether it
results in renewal, casting decisions, or new character arcs. With The 100 in particular (and to
a more limited degree with Girls), audiences were not so much “authors” as they functioned as
what Foucault might call “initiators.” As he describes, “the distinctive contribution of these
[sorts of] authors is that they produced not only their own work, but the possibility and the rules
of formation of other texts” (1992, p. 310). Foucault uses “initiators” to describe authors like

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Homer, Freud, and Marx, and obviously online discussion is not an identical comparison. Yet,
the moves made by The 100 fandom is like the initiator in that it shifted discourse to focus on
import larger than the original work in reference. In highlighting the social injustice of Bury
Your Gays, The 100 fandom may represent a more modern initiator, establishing a larger
conversation of how the trope had permeated into other shows and films. This sort of action
differs from the simplicity of “cancel culture,” and may instead be cited as a diversity initiative.
     Instead of expecting creative changes based on want, like with Misery, the criticism of
Girls and The 100 was an expectation of change based on what was considered to misalign with
reality. To see normative characters fixed in a setting that ignores, or at least doesn’t showcase,
a diverse reality is largely behind the diversity criticism for Girls and The 100. Essentially, as
opposed to calling for creative change based on expectations of what is correct or appropriate,
the diversity criticism aimed at Girls and The 100 was more of a critique of social injustice,
rather than an instance of cancel culture. Despite the negativity of the blanket term “cancel
culture,” this is not a reason to “disengage from Twitter and Facebook, as some commentators
advocate, nor to give up on social media’s potential for progressive action” (Ng, 2020, p. 622).
As explored above, though audience pushback sometimes results in snap decisions, it can also
inspire positive initiatives for diversity.

Diversity Initiatives Across Visual Media

Audience demands help sway the market and have opened diversity initiatives in various forms
of media. A diversity initiative can be described as an attempt to acknowledge diversity gaps,
while also promoting greater diversity.
     In the wake of the murder of George Floyd in 2020, protests across the US have reignited
conversations about race and representation. Television executives have taken notice, and have
launched diversity initiatives. To start, in June 2020, Hackman Capital promised to invest 2
million dollars in diverse communities and media training for minorities. The funds will enable
“work with local schools, production studios, and content creators to offer Black students and
other underrepresented communities the resources to obtain mentorship, internships,
scholarships, and the necessary education and onsite training to secure jobs in Los Angeles’
largest industry” (Low, 2020, para. 5). Similarly, CBS has set a goal to hire more minority
writers. The network hopes to expand to 40% diverse writers by the 2021-22 broadcast season,
widening to 50% by the 2022-23 season (D’Zurilla, 2020, para. 1-2). Even actors are making
strides to develop opportunities for underrepresented writes. Working with the organization
Color of Change, Michael B. Jordan started the #ChangeHollywood initiative in July 2020,
which “outlines a road map with concrete ways to invest in anti-racist content and authentic
Black stories, invest in Black talent and reinvest police funds to support Black communities”
(Ali, 2020, para. 4). Even as the drive for greater diversity in visual media expands and is
quantified, the current gaps in representation are still acute. Social media plays a role in how
knowledge of representation is changing, because “as the communications landscape gets
denser, more complex, and more participatory, the networked population is gaining greater
access to information, more opportunities to engage in public speech, and an enhanced ability
to undertake collective action” (Shirky, 2011, p. 29). The combination of communication and
dissemination of sentiment can drive change, like a diversity initiative. As Meadow Jones
(2014) tells it, “Artists and authors commonly strive to bring the viewer or reader into a world
made through description or expression” (p. 49). So it makes sense that those same audiences
would voice their opinions to reach the authors in pursuit of new artistic development.
Ultimately, collective action allowed The 100 to sustain a longer lasting initiative, whereas the
collective action for Girls was less focused and produced different results.

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     Though Dunham initially reacted to the lack of diversity by basically saying she “couldn’t
relate” and therefore “couldn’t write to the experience,” she nevertheless added a prominent
black guest star at the start of Season 2. Given that filming took place only one month after the
premiere, the audience and critical reception may have swayed whom Girls ultimately chose to
cast. Either way, Dunham’s decision to publicize this choice was certainly in part a response to
the critique. Similar to The 100’s Clexa promos, which built up a diverse and strong character,
the promos for Glover’s addition hinted that he would be a series regular. After the Season 2
premiere, rumors hit that he was only a guest star. Glover’s departure after two episodes
initiates when the main character, Hannah, confronts him for critiquing an essay she’s written,
a conversation that devolves into racial awkwardness with Glover’s character shooting back,
“Oh, I'm a white girl and I moved to New York and I'm having a great time and I got a fixed
gear bike and I'm gonna date a black guy and we're gonna go to a dangerous part of town”
(S2x2 “I Get Ideas”). His critique of Hannah’s white privilege reflects self-awareness on the
part of Girls. Importantly, Jones (2014) talks about how “empathy may be best understood
through a narrative context” (p. 54). With the storyline including Glover’s minority character,
both the audience and artist may have experienced empathetic moments for diverse characters
and situations. However, in a 2018 interview with The New Yorker, Dunham revealed that
Glover ad-libbed the lines. His interpretation of Hannah’s white privilege was “one-hundred
percent him. I emailed him later to say ‘I hope you feel the part on Girls didn’t tokenize you,’
and his response […]: ‘Let’s not think back on mistakes we made in the past, let’s just focus
on what lies in front of us’” (as cited in Friend, 2018, para. 70). As time passed from the 2012
premiere, Dunham seemed more comfortable expressing self-awareness for the diversity issues
pointed out by fans and critics. During an interview with Nylon, Dunham professes “I wouldn’t
do another show that starred four white girls” (as cited in Wappler, 2017, para. 8). In reflecting
on other Girls controversies, the aforementioned claim of nepotism was perhaps linked to the
lack of diversity. Nepotism is a sort of bias based on familial or friendly connections. There is
an adage among writers to “write what you know,” and Dunham acknowledges she “wrote”
from “what [she] knew. Jones (2014) believes that to truly write “what you know,” greater
reflection is necessary, because “the ability to synthesize information directly relates to one’s
ability to combine the given experiences and create new knowledge through appropriation and
reconfiguration” (p. 50). If normative white showrunners continue to influence television, then
falling back on “what you know” becomes a trap of bias couched in artistic freedom, lacking
reflection or synthesis of self and of others. Thus, until more diverse showrunners are included
at all levels of television, writing from beyond what is familiar (i.e., casting diverse leads) is a
healthy start in combating a lack of diversity. Such steps should be taken with consideration,
so as to avoid tokenism or misappropriation, but in moving from “what is known,” or rather,
“what is comfortable,” new perspectives and stronger stories may flourish.
     As outlined in the first section, staff writers of The 100 ultimately decided for Clarke’s
character to remain bisexual rather than play out the potential heteronormative relationship with
the protagonist Bellamy. Many factors could have influenced this decision, but the audience
and critical response may have played a part. Likewise, before the Clexa debacle, audiences
were previously on edge from another LGBTQ character death on Jane the Virgin in February
2016. With March came Lexa’s death on The 100, Kira’s death on SyFy’s The Magicians, and
Denise’s death on AMC’s The Walking Dead. The culmination of queer character deaths via
various television shows accentuated the Bury Your Gays trope in a very short time span.
     Fictional characters are killed off in any genre, regardless of demographics or social
standing. However, fans of The 100 believed queer characters have been repeatedly discarded
in film and television. As the Bury Your Gays trope outlines, this is in part because such
characters are cast so infrequently (or commonly as antagonists), so their deaths are all the more
noticeable and give rise to the notion that these characters are expendable. Autostraddle

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published a list of 212 lesbian and bisexual characters that are killed off from 1976 through
2020 (Riese, 2016, online chart). Of all modern queer characters and relationships on television,
not many end up surviving. Snarker (2012) reports that television has in large part allowed
“happy endings” for “only around 18 couples, on some 16 TV shows” (para. 8). Like other
fans, queer fans hope to see themselves represented in fictional characters. Erin B. Waggoner
(2018) explains that,

“for LGBTQ fans, this is especially important in their own meaning-making as representation becomes
an important aspect of this process. Essentially, there needs to be good representation to help people
understand who they are and the challenges they can expect to face with regard to this particular
identity.” (p. 1880)

Audiences understandably want characters to identify with, to see themselves in, and to
recognize. This representation is hard to come by for queer audiences, so instead of just being
upset over the loss of a beloved character, fans were perhaps upset over the loss of a role-model.
The limited or poor representations of queer characters in February and March 2016 led to an
amplified response from fans. Such a response contributes meainigfully to participatory culture.
     As noted above, certain hashtags trended on Twitter to call more attention to the diversity
criticism, like #BuryYourGays. The 100 showrunner Rothenberg’s Twitter account lost 15,000
followers after the March 3, 2016 episode aired. Moreover, “Fans got the
hashtag #LGBTFansDeserveBetter to trend for hours worldwide on Twitter the week after
Lexa's death to coincide with the airing of The 100” (Snarker, 2012, para. 15). Viewers also
created two websites to express thoughts and discontent with queer representation on media
(lgbtfansdeservebetter.com and wedeservedbetter.com), and raised over 100,000 dollars to
donate to the Trevor Project. The combination of social media blitzes and other forms of
outreach effectively conveyed how powerful the audience discontent could be. As Snarker
(2012) observes, “The intricate pas de deux that shows and fans play with each other is the new
social capital that drives ratings” (para. 20). Showrunners that ignore critics and fanbases are
ignoring the potential for media exposure, which in turn could impact the number of viewers.

Diversifying Show Catalogs: The CW and HBO

Perhaps intent on investing the “new social capital” for creative and economic gain, The CW
and HBO have diversified representation in the last five years. In 2020, The CW features six
shows with minorities billed as lead and six shows with minorities as co-stars (out of twenty-
four offerings of original content). Two shows star white women as the lead, but are diverse in
their characterizations: In the Dark is about a blind woman, while Batwoman features a queer
lead as Batwoman (and the actress also identifies as lesbian). Also in 2020, HBO now features
more than eight shows with minorities billed as the lead (out of over thirty-six offerings of
original content), with minorities writers to boot. As diverse successors to Girls, shows like
Insecure, Euphoria, and Betty reflect—respectively—on: relationships for women and teens
working and dating in the city, overcoming drug use, and resisting sexism. This diversity of
characterization could be framed as cancel culture phasing out white characters. However, it is
better understood as a diversity initiative, which the following sections evaluate and
distinguish.

Cancel Culture or Diversity Initiative?

As previously suggested, cancel culture is a sort of group mentality by which the actions or
words shared in a public forum are deemed taboo, and therefore should be amended.